Let Me Just Stalk You
by Prisoner Len
Summary: Cloud's got it bad for a man he sees running every day. Too bad he's too shy to actually approach him. Stalker!Cloud. CxS; oneshot.


Every morning, Cloud Strife woke up at approximately five o'clock. He would shower, dress, brush his teeth, and make a rather futile attempt at taming his vast array of blonde spikes. And then he would plant his ass on the small couch in his living room, kick his feet up onto the coffee table, and watch the same shitty soap opera that came on at the same time every morning while eating a bowl of cereal. He'd laugh at the storyline, tell off the characters, and encourage the women to be succubus-like bitches and steal each other's husbands.

You know, the usual I'm-out-of-school-now-and-really-have-nothing-better-to-do junk everyone pulled during the summer.

Only Cloud _did_ have something better to do—it just didn't start until six o'clock in the morning. Of course, after that he was forced to be a normal human being and spend some time outside of his apartment on the sixth floor of a small complex in northern Midgar. Because according to his friends and family, he would become a hermit if he didn't leave the apartment during the day. Which was probably true. Honestly, he hated Midgar; it was an overcrowded _dump_ full of the most pretentious dickwads Cloud had ever had the misfortune of living around. His own neighbor was some rich snob who inherited daddy's fortune or some shit like that.

But that was where Shinra University was and it would have been pretty damn difficult to make a daily two hundred mile trip from his hometown of Nibelheim. And really, Midgar did have a couple of redeeming qualities. Sort of. One was Zack Fair, a rather rambunctious twenty year old whom Cloud had befriended on his very first day of university. The two were inseparable. They practically lived together—seriously; Zack lived down the hall from Cloud. They would eat dinner together most nights, and Saturdays were set aside for movies. If Cloud got into any trouble, Zack was right there by his side—probably _causing_ the trouble. When Cloud landed himself in the hospital with a broken hand after an incident that involved him breaking into his own apartment, Zack purposely broke his own hand in the waiting room to prove it wasn't all that bad and Cloud was just being a wuss.

Zack then proceeded to scream like a little girl in pain and bitch about how he couldn't use his hand for the next month and a half. And didn't Cloud know that was Zack's _fap hand_? The nurses didn't quite appreciate his antics, either; those hospital robes weren't there for him to put on and parade around naked in.

Despite the man's quirky nature and strange ability to constantly get in trouble, they were best friends and Cloud valued that. Especially considering he didn't have many friends back home (being gay wasn't exactly a promising aspect of a young man from a town full of farmers, tradition, lumberjacks, and hunting.).

But the _real_ reason Cloud loved this city so much—and why he woke up at such an ungodly hour every fucking day—resided in the park around the corner between the hours of six to roughly nine in the morning. In the form of a man he had never met before. Or spoken to. Hell, he hadn't even been within five feet of said complete stranger. But he was the most interesting person Cloud had seen in the city since moving to it a year prior. So every morning by six o'clock, he would pull on a pair of sneakers, grab his keys, cell phone, and a bottle of water, and be out the door.

He was a stalker.

There was no other way to put it; every morning for the past six _months_, he had woken early up to go running. Just to see a man he didn't even know. Rain or shine, he dragged himself out of bed at the ungodly hour of five o'clock to go for a run. And he _hated_ running.

And yet there he was, walking through the wrought iron archway that led into the park.

It was early still; the grass had a layer of dew on it, and birds were chirping their morning songs. A dog barked in the distance, followed by a car alarm and police sirens. And then someone screamed like they were dying, and Cloud remembered he wasn't in the wild, but in downtown Midgar. Nobody else was wandering around the basketball court, fields, or on the path.

Nobody except _him_.

Blue eyes watched the familiar silver-haired man Cloud had aptly dubbed "That Hot Guy". As usual, the man had his long hair tied back into a high ponytail and no glasses on—those would make their appearance after his run, when he sat down under a tree to read. Cloud briefly wondered if he had finished Loveless—the latest book he had been reading—yet or not. He slowed his pace just enough for the man to get quite a ways ahead, then started a slow jog.

The path in the small park snaked from one end to the other, rounding the baseball field, basketball court, and a rather large pond. Trees were settled on either side of the pavement, offering enough shade to keep him cool in the early morning hot summer sun. And Cloud had to dodge the occasional chipmunk or squirrel too stupid to realize somebody was running right at them (a problem he noticed the silver-haired man never seemed to have).

It was just as Cloud was jumping over one of those stupid over-sized rodents when he realized something.

Something that almost made him trip and fall flat on his face.

That Hot Guy had unbuttoned his shirt. When he turned slightly to fix his hair, Cloud got a glimpse of a well-toned chest. He ran with his mouth open, staring at the broad shoulders ten feet ahead of him and was completely fucking _captivated_ by man he'd never even heard before. Or made eye contact with.

Yes, Cloud was indeed a fucking stalker. A rather creepy one at that; he'd had a few wet dreams involving his target in the past few months.

He was also about to find out that running with one's mouth open was not such a brilliant idea; a bug went flying into his mouth, hitting the back of his throat and causing him to trip over his own feet and fall flat on the pavement. He clutched his throat and pushed himself onto his knees, coughing harshly until the fly made its way back out of his body. And then he just sat there rubbing his neck and _glaring_ at the dead insect because clearly, flies were about as smart as squirrels and chipmunks.

Screwing the cap off of his water bottle, he took a large gulp, wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, recapped his drink, and climbed back to his feet. He then proceeded on his way, so very thankful that it was early and nobody had seen him get taken down by a bug. Because he refused to believe the silver-haired man noticed it. Absolutely not. First impressions were everything, right? Well, Cloud would be quite pleased to _not_ have him getting beaten up by a _bug_ as his first impression on a hot guy.

Although, considering he was _stalking_ the man, it probably wouldn't make much of a difference in the end.

The deeper into the park they jogged, the quieter it became—aside from their footfalls. The shade thickened, and a cool breeze ruffled Cloud's blonde spikes as he ran. And he was seriously dreading coming out on the other side of the trees; the stretch between one clump and the next was pure unfiltered summer sunshine, hot as hell on the pavement far below. One would think Cloud would be used to it after so many months, right? Well, that person would be wrong. Cloud Strife was a wuss and had extreme difficulties adjusting to anything; weather, new homes, new people—you name it, he struggled with it. Hell, his first month in his new apartment, he had continuously gone into the bathroom thinking it was the kitchen. And the two were on opposite sides of the small living space.

But he could do this. He _would_ do this.

Why the hell did it have to be so _quiet_ at that end of the park!

He made an attempt at making less noise, but he failed miserably—mostly because his cellphone was going off.

And it was blaring some rather obscene song lyrics, telling Cloud that it was _Zack_ calling him at such a ridiculous hour.

He fumbled in his pockets while he ran, yanking the phone out and flipping it open quickly before pressing it to his ear. "Zack, what the fuck do you want?" he hissed into the mouthpiece, stopping short when the silver-haired man started to glance over his shoulder. He looked to one side of the path, then the other.

And then he launched himself into the bushes.

What could he say? He panicked. This was precisely why he hadn't met the guy he was stalking—he was scared stiff. The man looked to be much older than Cloud—and much stronger.

"What the hell are you doing?" Zack half-yelled as Cloud situated himself comfortably in the grass behind the bushes.

"I'm running." he lied. He wasn't running. He was sitting on the ground next to a pile of dog crap.

"You mean stalking."

Cloud scowled at the dog shit, as though that would solve all of his problems and make Zack shut the fuck up. "I'm not _stalking_ him. I'm just… slowly working up the nerve to say hello." he stated somewhat confidently.

Zack snorted out a laugh. "Well, if it takes you six months to say 'hey, how's it going?', I'd hate to know how long it'd take for you to ask him out."

Now, Cloud could have given an answer. That answer would probably have been "I was thinking maybe in a year". Instead, he inched away from the doggy doo-doo and rubbed the back of his neck. "What can I say? I'm shy." he groaned. "What do you want, Zack?"

"Huh?" his best friend grunted stupidly. "Oh! Right. You still coming over for crappy movies tonight?"

Cloud frowned, pulling on the park grass. "You called me at half past six in the morning to ask me that?"

"Uh… Yup." Zack answered happily, audibly chewing.

"Yes, my half-retarded friend, I will be at your apartment at seven o'clock sharp." he snorted, rolling his eyes. "Can I go now?"

"Yeah, yeah. Wouldn't want you to miss out on your stalker session."

With a loud laugh, Zack hung up. For a moment, Cloud merely frowned down at his phone. He didn't exactly like being called a stalker. Even if he _was_ one. Sighing, he slid his phone back into his pocket and climbed to his feet.

And then he stepped on his own shoelace, and fell towards that damn pile of dog shit.

He closed his eyes, face twisted in disgust and ready to bail his morning run early just to rinse his mouth out with bleach. Only he never hit the ground. A hand was wrapped tightly around his forearm, holding him up. He opened one blue eye, then the other, and turned his head to find out who had saved him from a dog shit face plant.

And came face to face with the man he had been stalking for the past half of a year.

It was the closest they'd ever been, and Cloud immediately took in the eerie likeness that the man's green eyes had to a cat. His silver hair daintily framed his face, and he didn't look _nearly_ as old as the blonde thought he was—he barely looked older than Cloud himself. In fact, he had one eyebrow arched high, and looked thoroughly amused by something. Most likely the teenager standing in front of him with a relatively good imitation of a fish.

"Are you alright?" the man asked softly, tilting his head slightly.

And Cloud could have died right there. The man's voice was _gorgeous_—no, it was _perfect_.

_Shit_. He was staring at Cloud and obviously waiting for an answer, his silver eyebrows arched high and his perfect face set in a slight frown.

"I lost my canary." Cloud blurted, eyes wide. Then he groaned, yanked his arm out of the man's grip, and covered his face. A fucking _canary_? He finally got a chance to speak to the guy he'd been stalking for half of a year, and he tells the man he lost a fucking _canary_?

He didn't even know what the hell a canary even _looked like_.

The man was quiet for a long moment, face twisted in confusion. "You… lost your canary?" he repeated slowly.

Cloud pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed, and shook his head quickly. "I just lied to you and I have no idea why."

"Is it related to you following me every morning for the past six months?" the man mused, putting one hand on his hip.

"W-What?" Cloud spluttered, swallowing hard and snapping his blue eyes open to stare up at his stalkee. "I-I haven't been f-follow—"

"Except for the third this month." The silver-haired stranger tapped his chin in thought, then gestured vaguely around him. "Where were you on the third? You missed two elderly women beating each other up with their purses."

"Y-You knew I was following you?"

He rolled his green eyes and crossed his arms. "Honestly, how could I _not_? You're not exactly the sneakiest person—no offense, but a dead body could have heard you coming. And your conversations with Zack were obnoxiously loud."

"I, uh—"

"Sephiroth." The man greeted, offering a slender hand to the teen. "You know, if you wanted to ask me out, you could have six months ago. The whole stalking thing was a little weird. By the way, you had your phone on speaker."

Cloud gawked at the hand, then at the owner of the hand, and was suddenly completely overwhelmed by the apparent acceptance of him stalking somebody for six. Fucking. _Months_. And he could have just _asked_ the man out? "I've been waking up at this un-fucking-godly hour everyday for six months for _nothing_?" he shouted, throwing his arms into the air. "What. The. _Shit_."

"Indeed." Sephiroth commented calmly, cocking an eyebrow at the spastic teen standing before him. It honestly would have been difficult for him to never notice Cloud; every day the blonde stumbled into the park, yelled at Zack on his cell phone, and slammed his feet down so hard his footsteps _echoed_.

The blonde ranted quietly to himself for a few seconds more, then slammed his face down into his hands, ran his fingers through his hair, and exhaled a sigh. He looked up at Sephiroth and pouted cutely. "You, uh… wanna catch a movie or something sometime?"

"I would love to." Sephiroth replied politely, then turned on his heel and started down the track. "Though it'd be lovely to know who the hell I'm accepting a date from first."

"Huh—Oh." Cloud smacked his forehead and trotted after him, falling into step beside him. "Cloud Strife."

"It was a pleasure to have been stalked by you, Cloud." the taller man joked with a soft laugh.

Cloud was in shock. Or he was dreaming. Either way, he wasn't a stalker anymore—wait. Did dating the man he stalked make him a super stalker, or just nullify the stalking altogether? He thought it over to himself as they made their way down the quiet path side by side and decided that it did indeed nullify any stalker status he had previously had in life. He pinched his arm, and grinned like a madman when it actually hurt.

One thing was for sure—

"So, uh. How old are you? Your hair's kind of… _gray_…"

—Cloud certainly had a way with words.

* * *

><p><strong>Just a few noootes.<strong>

**Those two old women beating the shit out of each other with purses? Damn right it's Ethel and Eunice.**

**And Sephiroth is 21 in this. Just in case anyone was wondering.**

**Hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading, and sorry it was so short. Review?**


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